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AN 



ADDRESS 



DELIVERED BEFORE 



THE PHRENAKOSMIAN SOCIETY 



PENNSYLVANIA COLLEGE, 



FEBRUARY 22, 1843. 



BY REV. HENRY I. SMITH, A.M. 

Professor of German and French Languages and Literature, in Pennsylvania College, 



GETTYSBURG: 
PRINTED BY H. C. NEINSTEDT. 

MDCCCXLIII, 






Pennsylvania College, Feb. 2itli, 1843. 

Rev. H. I. Smith, 

Dear Sir: — In accordance with our own feelings and the 
wishes of the Society we represent, we return to you our grateful 
acknowledgments for the Address delivered before us on the eve- 
ning of our twelfth anniversary, and respectfully ask a copy for 
publication. 

With great esteem, your's, &c, 

WM. A. RENSHAW, 

B. R. RIDGELY, 

C. M'C. KLINK, 
J. MTARLAND, 
G. NIXDORFF, 

Committee of Arrangement. 



Gettysburg, February 25th, 1843. 

Gentlemen, 

The manuscript of the address, which was spoken before 
you on the evening of the 22d inst., is, in compliance with your 
request, placed at your disposal. Permit me yet to observe, that 
some of its many imperfections, of which I am but too sensible, 
are to be placed to the account of the great brevity, with which 
my very limited time made it necessary for me to treat a subject 
so extensive. In the hope that this humble testimony to the im- 
portance of moral culture may not prove entirely fruitless, 
I am very sincerely your's, 

H. I. SMITH. 

To Messrs. Wm. A. Renshaw, B. 
R. Ridgely, C. M'C. Klink, J 
M'Farland, G. Nixdorff, 

Committee of Arrangement. 



ADDRESS. 



Gentlemen of the 

Phrenakosmian Society, 



After looking at a variety of subjects that pre- 
sented themselves to my attention, when I was con- 
sidering how I might best perform the duty, which 
you have done me the honor to impose upon me, I 
finally selected the one which filled, at the time, the 
largest space in the eye of my mind, and which is, 
in itself, no less important, than it is interesting. 

The words which you have adopted as the mot- 
to of your association, and which your appointment 
recalled vividly to my recollection, had, perhaps, 
some influence in determining my choice; yet, in 
rejecting subjects whose interest, however great, 
was chiefly literary, I was actuated, mainly, by the 
desire to improve the present occasion for the at- 
tainment of higher purposes than we are wont to 
connect with the pursuits of literature, and to offer 
to your consideration some reflections relative to 
the weightiest interests of man. And, in order to 
introduce the subject on which I design to expatiate 
this evening, at some length, permit me to call your 
particular attention to that motto, under which you 
rally, and which expresses the great object of your 
association : 



In order to cultivate your minds, you have sought 
the institution with which you are connected, and 
with a view to the same design your Society has 
been organized. But the word mind is one of 
great latitude, embracing a large compass of mean- 
ing. It is often used to designate the whole of man 
that is not material, corporeal, or physical; and so 
employed, it may be regarded as comprehending all 
those faculties and powers of our nature, which con- 
stitute our proper humanity, and exalt our perish- 
ing bodies into tenements of what is inconceivably 
greater than they, a strangely compounded principle 
of conscious, active, accountable, never-ending life. 
The same extent of meaning attaches to the Greek 
word in your motto : it represents not only the intel- 
lect, but the seat of feelings, affections, and desires. 

Allow me, furthermore, to call your attention to 
the first word of that motto. It signifies not so 
much to supply with needful and appropriate furni- 
ture, as to adorn with whatsoever is beautiful, and 
honorable, and of good report ; to regulate, to rule 
well and wisely the mind, when so furnished. Your 
motto, then, implies, that you are resolved not only 
to cultivate the intellect, properly so called, but to 
educate rightly, and in view of worthy purposes, 
your whole man, your natural impulses, your af- 
fections and feelings, in short your moral powers. 
And from your thus avowed purposes I would take 



occasion to improve the present hour in address- 
ing you on The Education of the Heart. 

Our first business will be to explain, and to ex- 
hibit our subject in its various aspects. 

You are here for the purpose of obtaining an ed- 
ucation. But the mere acquisition of knowledge, 
so far from constituting education, is, however im- 
portant, but a small section of the whole process. 
Besides the accumulation of intellectual wealth, 
one of the greatest results attained by the syste- 
matic and spirited pursuit of liberal studies, is the 
discipline which the mind receives, the power which 
it acquires, not only of employing at will, and for 
definite purposes, the mass of treasure which it has 
collected in the vast mine of human knowledge, but 
of prosecuting, with increasing success, its search 
for greater store. This part of education, then, in- 
vests the successful student, according to the time- 
worn adage, with an extent of power, to which it is 
impossible to assign, within a certain sphere, any 
fixed limits. 

There are those who contend that this is all the 
education that man needs; intellectual power, and 
intellectual light, is all they ask for. But, ere their 
demand could be complied with, it would be neces- 
sary to revolutionize the whole organism of human 
society, to completely isolate, on the electric princi- 
ple, every individual of the human race, and utterly 
to paralize all his intellectual energies, except so 



8 

far as they affect himself alone, his own condition. 
For no man does, or can, live to and for himself 
alone. Every individual member of society consti- 
tutes a radiating centre, from which influences per- 
petually emanate ; influences which must, in one 
way or other, powerfully affect his fellow-men; in- 
fluences over which, when they have gone forth, the 
individual not only can have no further control, but 
which are, from the very constitution of things, in- 
destructible in their existence, and expanding in 
their operation. Now, in order that these influen- 
ces may operate for the good of society in general, 
and make the scholar himself a man, a virtuous 
man, a servant of Him who gave him his being, the 
heart must be educated, i. e. the natural impulses, 
the affections and feelings, the tempers and dispo- 
sitions, and withal, the imagination, must be suitably 
developed, and so trained, as to conform their com- 
bined action to the purposes for which man has 
been called into existence, and organized into soci- 
ety. We have thus not arrayed against, but distin- 
guished from, each other, intellectual and moral cul- 
ture. These are both necessary to each other, but 
not in equal degree : for the heart may be well ed- 
ucated, though the culture of the intellect be not 
very extensive ; yet, if not extensive, it must in all 
cases be sound, and available for the purposes of 
life. When, however, the intellect is exclusively 
cultivated, to the neglect of the heart, the conse- 



quences are always injurious, often disastrous, to 
the individual, and, in most instances, eminently so 
to society. The man, whose heart is right and 
sound, will enjoy life better, and do more for the 
good of society, than the man who has striven only 
to store his memory with treasures, to teach his in- 
tellect to see far and to penetrate deep, and to fur- 
nish imagination with Herculean powers. But let 
us not be understood to depreciate intellectual cul- 
ture. We believe that no man will feel rightly, who 
does not think correctly: and we are persuaded that 
the good man's influence will reach farther, and his 
usefulness be greater, in proportion to the amount 
of his intellectual furniture, and the extent of his in- 
tellectual discipline. But this we would say, that if 
the choice were given us, either to pass our life in 
that obscurity which is consequent upon a limited 
education of the mind, but to act our part wisely 
and well within our narrow sphere, or to attract the 
admiration of the world, by the incalculable wealth, 
and the gigantic performances of our intellect, but 
to apply these stores, and to direct these perform- 
ances to the attainment of purposes at variance with 
conscience, and pernicious to society, we could have 
no hesitation to choose obscurity for our portion. 

In order, then, that the culture of the intellect 
may be subsidiary to the true interests of man, it is 
necessary that the heart should be true and right, 
with regard to all the relations of human life, 



10 

When you, my young friends, shall have, accord- 
ing to common parlance, finished your education, 
you expect to take your station in society, and to 
occupy some well-defined sphere within its compli- 
cated mechanism. None of you, I may venture to 
hope, designs to take his post in the mould-encrust- 
ed niche of the bookworm, who loves the dust that 
covers some old black-letter tome, on which he un- 
expectedly alights, better than all the available met- 
al of modern science ; or to pass through life that 
empty non-descript, usually styled a pleasant com- 
panion, who can prate flippantly about a thousand 
nothings, and gracefully parade his ignorance of all 
the weighty realities that are important to mankind. 
I suppose it to be your purpose, that your compan- 
ionship shall not only be agreeable to the shallow, 
but welcome to the sensible and wise ; that your 
conversation shall not only be sprightly and spark- 
ling, or redolent of the midnight oil, but interesting 
and profitable to the young and the old, the igno- 
rant and the learned ; and that your conduct, your 
active career shall not only be decided in its char- 
acter, without way-wardness and eccentricity, but 
adapted to worthy purposes, promotive of human 
happiness, and exemplary to all. 

Begin, then, your culture of the heart, by tutoring 
your desires and hopes, with reference to your fu- 
ture position and career in society. Nothing is 
more hostile to the success of the student, than lev- 



11 

ity, arid trifling 5 nothing more prejudicial to his en- 
tire culture, than false, and, above all, frivolous con- 
ceptions of human life, its relations and its duties. 
The trifler will magnify mole-hills into mountains, 
and learn to flatter himself, that real heights are as 
readily scaled as those pigmy elevations: and his 
fondness for things unimportant and easy of acqui- 
sition, will soon degenerate into a love of those, 
which are mean and contemptible ; and thus, his 
grovelling desires will give color to his pursuits, and 
tone to his conduct; as the poet, somewhat face- 
tiously, expresses it: 

u To dally much with subjects mean and low 

Proves that the mind is weak, or makes it so. 

Neglected talents rust into decay, 

And every effort ends in push-pin play. 

The man that means success, should soar above 

A soldier's feather, or a lady's glove. 

Else, summoning the muse to such a theme, 

The fruit of ail her labour is whipp'd cream. 

As if an eagle flew aloft, and then — 

Stoop'd from its highest pitch to pounce a wren : 

As if the poet, purposing to wed, 

Should carve himself a wife in gingerbread." — Cowper. 

Aim, then, to acquire sober and elevated views 
<of human life and its concerns; cultivate a desire to 
realize the most beautiful and exalted manifesta- 
tions, which, in times past, have adorned it ; cherish 
a love, and an ardent aspiration, for high and pure 
ideals ; nourish a contempt and disgust of all things 
vulgar and vile, and a fervent admiration and aftec 



12 

tion for whatever is lovely in human life, and excel- 
lent in human conduct, and a fixed determination to 
attain it, to exhibit in yourselves. And while I com- 
mend to you sober and serious views of life, I 
do not quarrel with the sanguine expectations, the 
glowing day-dreams, the enthusiastic purposes of 
youth. They are natural : they are the appropriate 
flowers of the May-day of life : and I say to you, 
love them too, and cultivate them, as you would 
rare plants in a green-house. But be sure that they 
be rare, and worthy of cultivation ; that they cluster 
around what is strong, and fixed, and beautiful, and 
noble, and high; and beware lest they grow rank 
and wild, and smother under their luxuriant foliage, 
the best, the most generous germs of character. 
And in harmony with these ideals, great and good, 
in accordance with these desires and purposes, firm 
and right, cultivate and discipline all the energies 
of the heart. 

Watch, with lynx-eyed care and jealousy, over 
those sacred affections, which the Creator has im- 
planted in the breast of man ; the love of parents, 
of kindred, of home ; keep your attachment, your 
gratitude, your trustful devotedness to those, who 
have given you every possible evidence of the love 
which they bear you, intact from every grosser sen- 
timent ; and above all, screen them against the de- 
basing touch of selfishness, and the chilling breath 
©f arrogant presumption. Hoard up in the chain- 



13 

bers of memory, with the avarice of the miser, eve- 
ry endearing reminiscence, every warm recollection 
of the sunny scenes of early days, when the love of 
others strewed your path with flowers, that they 
may serve to embalm those feelings in unchanging 
freshness. For not only do they constitute essen- 
tial elements of the true beauty, and the best enjoy- 
ment of life, but it is these which must expand, and 
grow into feelings broader and higher far, the love 
of God, and the love of mankind. And, in order 
to protect these feelings against rude shocks, and 
paralyzing chills, avoid, with care, falling into a 
mistake which is so common to the young, the for- 
mation of hasty and unwise friendships, which are 
followed by disappointment and disgust, and often 
produce suspicion and habitual uncharitableness. 
Yet that man is to be pitied, who lets the spring- 
time of his life pass away, without forming some 
friendships, warm and strong enough to resist all 
the frost and friction of this cold and busy world ; 
for this is evidence that he is either so singular as 
to find no congenial spirits around him, or so obtuse 
in feeling as not to appreciate the merits, or so base 
as not to deserve the regard, of others. Youthful 
friendships, wisely chosen, and cherished in good 
faith, constitute an excellent school for the heart: 
for their very existence depends on their sincerity 
and disinterestedness; they enkindle delight in the 
satisfactions of social life : they soften down the as- 



14 

perities of our own character, and train to forbear- 
ance toward the defects of others ; they habituate 
to the exercise of kind offices ; they train us to 
judge ourselves with severity, and others with can- 
dor ; and they constitute so many points, from which 
our warmest affections may radiate, in multiplied 
directions, into the bosom of society. Make it a 
point of duty, then, to seek some friends, whose 
worth may command your highest esteem, your 
most affectionate regard through life. But it is 
contended that friendship thrives not with us, as it 
did among the classic nations of antiquity. And 
this defect of our age is ascribed to the narrowness 
of the sphere, within which our youth are educated, 
whilst, with the ancients, the commonwealth educa- 
ted its rising generation in one large, common insti- 
tution, where all w r ere daily associated in common 
pursuits. But, if this charge be w T ell founded, there 
is yet abundant cause for encouragement : for there 
is an element of life abroad in the world, which is 
destined to pervade and regenerate all mankind ; 
and there is a commonwealth established, which 
must ultimately unite all nations, families, and indi- 
viduals in common and mighty sympathies, in the 
greatest possible common interests and purposes. 
We speak of Christianity and the church, whose day 
of final triumph will make the most desert places 
blossom as the rose. 



15 

But again, cultivate assiduously and directly, even- 
ness and placidity of temper ; gentleness and kind- 
ness of disposition towards all around you ; towards 
all with whom your daily avocations bring you into 
contact This is a point which students are very 
prone to neglect. Real or imaginary causes of irri- 
tation excite ill feeling and bitterness, elicit tart ad- 
dress and caustic retort; and, when brooded over, 
breed moroseness, and sour the temper. Many ac- 
quire such habits of temper and disposition, without 
realizing all the bitterness of the fruits which they 
bear, until their own social relations are permanent- 
ly established. But the subject here recommended 
is of incalculable importance, and merits the early 
attention of all, who would not only enjoy life them- 
selves, but contribute to the enjoyment and happi- 
ness of others, nay, of all around them. By storing 
your minds with useful and interesting information, 
and training them to promptness and vivacity in 
turning it to account in conversation, you may ob- 
tain the reputation of being agreeable and entertain- 
ing companions, among those who see you only un- 
der the restraints of general society. But the ma- 
jor part of your life will be passed in comparative 
privacy, in close association with those, whose earth- 
ly happiness will depend, in a great measure, on the 
ordinary current of your conversation and deport- 
ment, when the temptations afforded to act a part, 
or the salutary checks imposed, by extraordinary oc- 



16 

casions of greater publicity, must needs be inopera- 
tive. No situation of life is free from stimulants 
to asperity or violence of temper. And, in order, 
therefore, that our good and agreeable companion- 
ship may wear well amid the jarring influences of 
busy, every-day life, and work well amidst its often 
conflicting pursuits, it must be copiously lubricated 
with the oil of a sweet, even, placid temper. A 
temper, habitually sour and morose, sours, and dark- 
ens, and corrupts the whole atmosphere of our 
home, or our usual haunts ; but a temper, habitu- 
ally serene and complaisant, eliciting language court- 
eous and cheerful, and conduct urbane and amiable, 
diffuses sunshine, exhilarating, and fruitful of all 
kindliness, throughout the whole circle in which we 



move. 



" The mind despatched upon her busy toil 

Should range where Providence has bless'd the soil ; 

Visiting every flow'r with labour meet, 

And gathering all her treasures, sweet by sweet ; 

She should imbue the tongue with what she sips, 

And shed the balmy blessing on the lips, 

That good diffused may more abundant grow, 

And speech may praise the pow'r that bids it flow." 

Cowper. 



Again, these tempers and dispositions, in order to 
be steadfast and perennial, should have their deep 
and broad foundation in a feeling, which is of far 
greater compass and importance than they, I mean 
the feeling of benevolence, of true, and operative 



17 

love to universal man. The operation of those is 
limited to a narrow sphere, but this encompasseth 
the globe. He, whose sympathies and benevolence 
are bounded by the little circle of family and kind- 
red, is undeserving of the name of man. And the 
young cannot too early learn to know, that they are 
but members of one vast family, having the same 
interests, and the same destination. The feeling of 
universal benevolence should, therefore, be enkind- 
led in the heart, and supplied with appropriate nu- 
triment, in the morning of life, when all the feelings 
are quick, and fresh, and warm, as the blood that 
courses through the veins; to the matured judg- 
ment of later years it may be left to regulate per- 
manently its movements, and to select its most ap- 
propriate channels. The great business of youth 
is to develop, to cultivate the feeling itself. There 
are bonds of relationship even more important and 
enduring than those of family and kindred, that 
bind me to the Greenlander on his ice-girt and in- 
hospitable shore, and to the CafFre who roves on 
the parched deserts of Africa. Would we feel call- 
ed upon to labor for their good, if their abode were 
contiguous to ours, and our own condition material- 
ly affected by their possession, or destitution, of civ- 
ilized habits and morality? But what has benevo- 
lence to do with locality? Are the relative affairs 
of nations less important than those of individuals, 
or the interests of mankind subordinate to those of 



18 

separate families ? This feeling, then, demands to 
be recognized, in its widest extent, and to be culti- 
vated, in all its depth and authority, by every one 
who claims to be a true citizen of the world, whose 
love to the great human family no mountain-chains 
can shackle, no sea-bound shores confine. The 
dealings of that Providence, on which we all de- 
pend, to which, in want, the prayers of all must rise, 
teach us impressively the great lesson of universal 
benevolence : for its sun shineth, its refreshing show- 
ers descend, on the fields of the evil as well as the 
good : its bounties are dispensed to all : it " satisfi- 
eth the desire of every living thing." If then you 
would fill that station, to which your purely human 
relations summon you, and discharge its legitimate 
duties ; if you would have your influence reach as 
far, and effect as much, and as extensive good, as it 
may, cultivate early and earnestly a feeling of be- 
nevolence, which no color can repulse, no degrada- 
tion offend, no distance weary, and no meridian 
bound. 

But, farther, guard against the rise and growth of 
any and every passion. On the subject of the pas- 
sions, psychologists often talk loosely, as though 
they were essential elements of our moral nature. 






*It will, doubtless, appear to many, as if this were mere logo- 
machy, — nothing but beating the air. It will be said that psy- 
chologists mean by passions the same that we do by natural im- 
pulses. This is readily conceded, and all that we wish to repre- 
hend above, is the loose manner in which the word, passion. 



19 

They are always excessive, tyrannical, unnatural; 
always evil, and indicative of internal usurpation, 
misrule, disharmony, and oppression. If it be not 
so ; if the passions are essential elements of our 
moral nature, then do we use nothing but figura- 
tive language, when we say that a man has a pas- 
sion for drink, for gambling, for conquest, or any 
other object that may be specified. "In contempla- 
ting the human character, the most prominent phe- 
nomena are seen to be those resulting from the op- 
eration of the impulses of our moral nature, which 
constitute its foundation."* " They form that which 
we denominate the character." "These impulses 
are all necessary to the present condition of man- 
kind ; it is only their excess, or want of develop- 
ment, which constitutes evil. We call them a love 

is employed. It is used in a good sense, as impulse is above, 
and in a bad one, the same in which passion is employed in the 
text. And again, it has a great variety of applications, both in so- 
ber disquisitions and in common life, which, if passion really ex- 
presses what is designated above by the word impulse, can only 
be regarded as figurative. Thus love is a passion, and the lover is 
said to entertain a passion for his betrothed : anger is a passion, 
and so is the excessive lust of power or wealth. When the miser, 
in his dying hour, clutches his sordid gold, or the expiring warrior 
grinds his teeth, brandishes his sword, and utters maledictions on 
his enemy, then is " the ruling passion strong in death." All this 
is loose, unsettled language, and leads to confusion of ideas. All 
that we contend for above is closer accuracy, more rigid consis- 
tency of terminology, and this would, we think, be promoted by 
employing the term tt natural impulses" in the sense of the above 
extracts, and the word " passions," to designate their excess. 

*This quotation, and those which follow, are taken from a con- 
densed view, given in the Foreign Quarterly Review, 1836, of Idc- 
ler's Psychology. 



20 

of honor, of gain, of life, of freedom; or we denom- 
inate them, according to the object towards which 
they impel us, religion, ambition, &c." But "pas- 
sion is the despotism of a single impulse. When- 
ever an impulse has grown out of its healthy limits, 
engrossed in its interests all the powers of the soul, 
deadened the other impulses, or enlisted them in its 
service, it becomes a passion. The number of pas- 
sions, therefore, is indicated by the number of im- 
pulses. When one of the former has fully asserted 
its mastery, all internal opposition only serves its 
purpose by rousing it to such intensity that it easily 
imposes upon reflection a sophistical subserviency. 
A sense of past experience, and not the voice of 
reason, is the only shure check to passion. When 
the operation of the latter has once been followed 
by punishment, the individual will recollect the fact, 
when he may be on the point of yielding to it again, 
and such recollection may restrain him, though he 
may have forced his reason to come to the conclu- 
sion, that he would be justified in obeying his sove- 
reign impulse." 

"Men generally err in cultivating their under- 
standing, to the neglect of their impulses, or, in fol- 
lowing the latter blindly, without the aid of light 
from the former. The proper guidance of our im- 
pulses by reason," enlightened and sanctified by 
truth and grace divine, "is the grand problem of our 
lives." And thus, then, it should be your great ob- 



21 

ject, and determined purpose, to develope and cul- 
tivate all your natural impulses, not only in beautiful 
harmony with each other, but with direct, and con- 
stant reference to the one paramount concern of 
human life, obedience to Him who has given us our 
moral constitution. Let no one impulse domineer 
over the others ; let no aspiring or base passion in- 
trude, where all should be order, and concord, and 
harmony, and wield despotic rule in the soul, dis- 
tracted by internal discord and faction. Passion, 
though it be cunning, is always inconsiderate : 
though crafty and artful, it is rash, headlong, relent- 
less, often foolhardy : it hates order, for confusion 
is its cradle and its life ; but "order is Heaven^s first 
law:'" it hates peace, for tumult and strife is its busi- 
ness; but the benign and gentle influence of peace^ 
internal and external, is indispensable to the due 
growth, and fruitful activity of all the powers of the 
soul. Resist, then, the encroachments, the usurpa- 
tions, the tyranny, of passion, whenever, and under 
whatsoever guise, it may obtrude itself. 

And do not suppose that such rigorous control of 
the natural impulses is adverse to the generous and 
lofty enthusiasm of the young for things beautiful, 
noble, and good. "In opposition to reason, whose 
province it is to school the wants and wishes by 
which our impulses show themselves, the imagina- 
tion creates for them a world, in which to revel in 
ideal satisfaction, embellishes for them the future 



22 

with glowing colors, and promises them a brilliant 
career. It is from the pictures with which it 
abounds, that the youth first learns in what direc- 
tion he ought to proceed, for, before Reason ar- 
rives at an active age, imagination alone reveals to 
him the constitution of his moral nature. Reason 
comes up subsequently to discover the means of ful- 
filling the indications which imagination presents. 
But, without the enthusiasm with which the magic 
of the latter inspires him, he will never be capable 
of great achievements." And here we, therefore, 
feel bound " to rescue enthusiasm from the equivo- 
cal estimation in which it is too often held," and to 
"protest against the confounding of passion and en- 
thusiasm. The former implies complete discord ; 
the essence of the latter is perfect harmony." 
"True enthusiasm implies a harmony of all our 
impulses, each active in its sphere, and each lighted 
in its path by reason. Its highest expression is the 
creative activity of genius." And we would dismiss 
this point, by merely warning you against the affec- 
tation of enthusiasm, when its altar in the soul is 
cold ; and proceed to the necessity of schooling the 
imagination, and with it your taste. We are well 
aware that the imagination is ranked among the in- 
tellectual powers, strictly so called, and we have no 
wish to oppugn this arrangement. But, to every re- 
flecting mind it must be obvious how important is 
the judicious culture of the imagination to that cul- 



23 

ture for which we are here contending. There are 
two points of view, from which this importance 
seems to strike us most forcibly. And first, among 
all the intellectual powers none is more decidedly 
in the service of the heart, than the imagination. 
The heart employs it in a great variety of ways, on 
a thousand different errands. It employs this facul- 
ty as its limner, to conjure up before its ardent 
gaze, with all the distinctness of salient outline, in 
all the dazzling brilliancy, or witching softness, of 
coloring, whatsoever it most fervently loves, or most 
eagerly covets : it employs it as its orator, to pour 
into its inward ear the richest strains of holy feel- 
ings and of virtue's high resolves, or the seductive 
tones and loose beguilements of prurient vice ; it 
sends it forth on errands, far and wide, throughout 
its vast domain, to gather, and serve up on gorge- 
ous plate, whatever can feast its present appetite, 
or make the future teem with golden promise. 
Give, then, your hearts a servant, well trained to 
obey an energetic will, uttering the dictates of a 
pure and virtuous heart ; or, if you will, a Pegasus, 
able indeed to soar aloft and far, but disciplined to 
prompt submission to the tight-drawn rein. 

But still more important to the culture of the 
heart is the discipline of the imagination, when con- 
sidered from the second point of view. Through 
no channel does the heart more frequently or more 
copiously imbibe corruption, a love of low, and vile, 



24 

and odious things, than through the imagination. 
Through the eye and ear this faculty is assailed by 
a thousand foul incitements, learns familiarity with 
vice, and contracts a habit of roving through every 
purlieu of shame, to gather poison from every dead- 
ly plant. And of this venom it pours an overflow- 
ing stream into the heart, poisoning its feelings and 
desires, its wishes and its hopes, and feeds with 
foul miasmata the fever of many a guilty passion. 
Thus, if the heart employs the imagination in its 
service, the servant's sole business often seems to 
be to corrupt its master, to stir up evil in him, and 
then to seek it food, to give it sight and hearing for 
every shade, for every breath, of sin. Is it not so? 
And is it not obvious from the lessons of all past 
experience, that the judicious and rigid culture of 
the imagination is of incalculable importance to the 
moral character of man? And what a vast sphere 
of intense enjoyment does a lively but pure and 
well-disciplined imagination open to a heart, that 
loves and desires only what is noble and good. 

This part of our subject involves another point, 
on which we shall not here expatiate : the necessity 
of cultivating a chaste, elevated, and elegant taste. 
To merely specify the multiform connexions of this 
part of mental culture with the subject under con- 
sideration, is beyond our present limits. We are 
often told that u de gustibus non disputandum." 
This, on merely intellectual grounds alone, is not 



25 

true. It is folly to talk of taste as an attribute of 
the intellect only. For though its dicta be the pro- 
ducts of a sound judgment, refined in the school of 
the graces, it derives its character from the charac- 
ter of the heart; it will seek its subjects, in nature, 
in literature, and in art, in accordance with the feel- 
ings and desires, with the whole complexion, of the 
heart. And for this reason, though by no means 
for this alone, we say: u de gustibus est disputan- 
dum:" and while I earnestly commend to your at- 
tention the study of the principles of a refined and 
elegant taste, I would still more earnestly entreat 
you to cultivate, early and severely, its moral attri- 
butes of truthfulness and purity. 

We began our discussion with vindicating the 
claims of this culture of the heart to paramount im- 
portance in the great business of human education. 
To insist upon an obvious distinction, whilst the 
mere communication of knowledge is more appro- 
priately denominated instruction, it is this culture of 
our moral nature, which pre-eminently deserves to 
be called education. Let then no scientific curiosi- 
ty, no thirst for learning, no desire to shine in the 
literary world, ever tempt you to postpone it to your 
ordinary academic studies, or your private exercises 
for the cultivation of the intellect. It is on the ed- 
ucation which your hearts receive, that your own 
happiness, for time and eternity, must entirely de- 
pend, and in a great measure also, the happiness of 

D 



26 

those who are connected with vou in the various 
ties of domestic and of social life : it is this culture, 
which will make your intellect, whether richly or 
meanly furnished, an instrument for evil or for good. 
With a heart, rich in hoarded treasures of pure and 
strong affections, of disinterested, generous, and ex- 
alted feelings, of great and lofty ideals ; beating 
high with noble impulses, magnanimous desires, be- 
nevolent and liberal purposes : embracing, at one 
time, with its sympathy and benevolence, the whole 
great family of man, and at another impelling to 
the exercise of even the smallest of those kind offi- 
ces, which are so essential to the serenity, the beau- 
ty, the happiness of domestic and social life : ab- 
horring all that is false, and hollow, mean, and vile, 
and vicious, and aspiring only after what is truly 
great, and high, and excellent, within the reach of 
mortal man : with a heart, so schooled and trained, 
how elevated will be your position among men ; what 
an extent of power for the promotion of human 
happiness will you possess in the knowledge, which 
you are now accumulating; a power which, at all 
events, must tell with great momentum, and indel- 
ible effect, on unnumbered destinies besides your 
own. 

"Man's obligations infinite, of course 

His life should prove that he perceives their force ; 

His utmost he can render is but small — 

The principle and motive all in all." — CowrER. 



*27 

Of the subject, to which I desired to call your at- 
tention, I have thus presented a brief and meagre 
outline : to say any thing exhausting, within the lim- 
its to which I am necessarily confined, on a theme 
so vast, is, of course, utterly out of the question, 
when not even all the points of interest and mo- 
ment which it involves, could so much as be glanced 
at. It now remains for me, in a few words, to set 
forth the means, by which this culture of the heart 
is best promoted and secured. 

It may appear strange when I begin by saying, 
that your first step must be to obtain a strong and 
deep conviction of the immeasurable importance of 
thus educating the heart. But it is not strange. 
Men are thoroughly convinced of the importance 
of obtaining knowledge, of acquiring skill in a thou- 
sand pursuits and mechanical occupations, of pos- 
sessing themselves of a great variety of accomplish- 
ments and external graces, all with a view to secu- 
ring a livelihood, or compassing wealth and influ- 
ence, or achieving distinction and fame. But the 
culture of the heart is the last thing they think of. 
Or are we mistaken in the belief that vice and wick- 
edness are abroad in the earth: that the force of 
laws and penalties must hold together, and control, 
what no internal bond of sacred harmony combines 
in firm and peaceful union: that the only teacher of 
genuine and perennial goodness of heart, religion, 
is yet a stranger to the hearts, an alien from the 



28 

homes, of the majority of men? No, we are not 
mistaken. And it becomes you to study deeply the 
whole aspect of society, the springs, and the nature, 
and objects of those commotions which so often ruf- 
fle its surface, to scan, with searching eye, the histo- 
ry of the past, weighing well the character and the 
actions of those, whose names it records, and above 
all, the fruits of those actions, and to test severely 
your own experiences of daily life, to trace different 
modes of feeling and of conduct to their already 
transpired, or obviously necessary results, and to 
lend a willing ear to the lessons of wisdom, as it 
has spoken in all ages, in order that you may feel, 
in all its weight, the vast importance of that cul- 
ture, which I am now commending to your serious 
attention. 

You must begin by forming the stern resolve to 
obtain that nobilitv, of which even the heathen Ju- 
venal so emphatically declares : 

u Nobilitas sola est atque unica virtus." 



And, having formed this resolve, be severer censors 
of yourselves, than others will be of you. And in 
the direct pursuit of this great object, let me re- 
commend you to make it your study to please, and 
to be pleased; not, indeed, at the expense of virtue, 
nor by concealing that just indignation, which vice, 
in any form, ought at all times to excite, but by 
treating your associates with respect and courtesy. 



29 

by always putting upon their actions the most favor- 
able construction possible, and by expressing even 
your just indignation with civility and kindness. 
Do not expect perfection in others, that you may be 
indulgent to their faults, but aim at it yourselves, 
without ever presuming to act, to speak, to criticise 
and censure, as though you conceived yourselves 
possessed of it. Let it be your rule to address and 
treat others, as you desire that they should address 
and treat you; and when misunderstandings arise, 
or you fail to conciliate the good will, or to propiti- 
ate the kind regards of those with whom you asso- 
ciate, let no moroseness, or pride, prevent you from 
seeking to trace the cause. Whether you find it in 
yourselves, or in others, this practice will, at all 
events, afford you many glimpses of the secret 
workings of the heart, and show you, in what re- 
spects its impulses should be controlled, and its feel- 
ings guided. And in this connexion the careful stu- 
dy of a certain class of books, in which moral char- 
acter is illustrated by example, its excellence recom- 
mended, or its viciousness reprobated, from the in- 
fluences which it exerts on the individual and on so- 
ciety, as well as in view of the sacredness of duty, 
will be of great importance. 

Again, cultivate assiduously the society of those, 
whose character for virtue and amiableness is estab- 
lished, and especially of such, as are your seniors 
in years, that you may be benefited by their accu- 



30 

mulated stores of wisdom. If vice is contagious, 
so is contact with the amiable and virtuous irresisti- 
ble in its influence on the heart, and never can vir- 
tue commend itself more forcibly to our warm re- 
gard, than when we see it illustrated by entire fami- 
lies, in the delightful fruits which it yields to every 
member. And especially cultivate the society of 
intelligent, refined, and virtuous women. If the an- 
cients were destitute of this cultivating influence, 
the organization of christian societv enables us to 
enjoy it in all its efficacy. I speak in all sober seri- 
ousness, and from no desire to compliment those 
who are present, but from the deep conviction, that 
those who forego the advantages accruing from fe- 
male society, provided always that its elements real- 
ly are intelligence, true refinement, and virtue, will 
always, however right their hearts may be in ma- 
ny essential points, remain deficient in depth and 
warmth of feeling, and sympathy, in kindness and 
grace of deportment, and be little better, in their 
manners, through life, than boors. 

Again, study and imitate eminently great and 
good examples, whether living or dead. There is, 
in all education, no influence superior to that of ex- 
ample. Precepts and rules are of great value, but 
he who enjoys the opportunity of seeing them illus- 
trated by the practice of the refined and virtuous, 
and of witnessing the pleasures, the happiness, 
which a well-educated heart communicates to its 



31 

possessor, and to all around him, moves within a 
magic circle of influences, that cannot fail to exert 
an irresistible effect on the development of his 
heart, if he be not inveterately perverse, and obsti- 
nately addicted to vicious courses. In the choice 
of living examples, it is, of course, necessary to be 
exceedingly cautious and circumspect, as there is so 
much to deceive us, in the external deportment of 
men, whose character, when we become more inti- 
mately acquainted with them, exhibits so many de- 
fects, and vicious habits, that, however indulgently 
we may be disposed to view them, we are disap- 
pointed in our hopes of having discovered an ex- 
emplar, in all respects worthy of imitation. Yet 
we must beware, lest we be too soon disgusted. 
For, whilst we find no human character devoid of 
defects and faults, we shall always have occasion for 
candor and indulgence in forming our judgments; 
and this also, as we have already said, constitutes 
an essential attribute of a well educated heart. 
Our best plan, then, will be, to fix our eye upon a 
number of persons distinguished for superior ac- 
complishments, elegant manners, amiable deport- 
ment, and high moral worth ; and, overlooking their 
imperfections, to select from the character of each 
such traits as are of unquestionable value, and ac- 
knowledged excellence, and to combine these in the 
formation of a complete character, of a great and 



32 

exalted ideal { and to realize this in ourselves should 
then be the great aim of our exertions. 

The selection of examples from among those 
who have passed from the stage of life, is a task 
less embarrassing and difficult. The admiration 
and gratitude of all civilized nations have embalmed 
the characters of men truly great and good, in the 
indestructible mausoleum of the common memory 
of mankind, and indelibly inscribed their sufferings, 
their self-denying sacrifices, their noble exertions in 
the cause of virtue and human happiness, on the 
pages of history. The study of history, then, will 
furnish those who are desirous of educating their 
hearts aright, of forming their character in accord- 
ance with the great purposes and duties of human 
life, with the noblest examples. But it is rarely 
those, whose names occupy the largest space on the 
historic page, who, by the extraordinary, but facti- 
tious, brilliancy of their actions, and by the tumult 
which they produce, completely fill, for a season, 
the public eye and ear ; it is rarely those, who are 
famed as warriors, or statesmen, or revolutionary 
leaders, whom it is safe or expedient to select as ex- 
amples of true moral excellence. Exceptions there 
are, but they are "few and far between." We shall 
not say that general history is unjust in the selec- 
tion of the characters to which it gives the greatest 
prominence: but its object being to present the most 
universally important events and changes, which 



33 

transpire in the progress of the national and social 
developments of mankind, it is incompatible with its 
office to give detailed portraitures of characters, 
whose excellencies are best exhibited, and apprecia- 
ted, within spheres of action too narrow to detain 
the wide sweep of its eye. It is, therefore, rather 
in the special histories of particular periods, or 
countries, or even provinces, where many a compar- 
atively limited sphere of operation, calculated to 
bring into play the best qualities, the highest powers 
cf men, in all their beauty and energy, will present to 
our minds a bright and glorious array of pure and 
lofty examples. Such have generally earned, by the 
benefits which they have conferred on communities, 
the preservation of their memory, in special records 
of their useful and virtuous lives. Hence no spe- 
cies of reading can be more useful to those, who 
would propose to themselves for imitation the lives 
of the wise and good, than biographies ; and a suit- 
able selection of these I would most earnestly re- 
commend to you all. They are calculated to make 
us deeply ashamed of our own deficiencies and 
faults, to humble us in view of our trifling acquisi- 
tions and our feeble efforts: and, by showing us 
what men have attained before us, and what there- 
fore may, and ought to be attained, at least as far as 
moral culture is concerned, to stimulate and spur us 
on to greater and more earnest exertions. 

E 



34 

In noticing a few such examples, we shall design- 
edly select our characters from secular life. Whilst 
Voltaire and Rousseau, the former a man of great 
versatility of talent, and of extraordinary intellec- 
tual culture, the latter a decided, but warped and 
only half-cultivated genius, were poisoning thousands 
with their infidel and vicious principles, and inflicting 
incalculable mischief on individuals and on society, 
there stood forth, at the same time, in the metropo- 
lis of England, a man of gigantic intellect and of 
vast learning, as the firm, and uncompromising, and 
vigorous champion of truth and virtue, sternly vindi- 
cating whatsoever is right and good, and relentlessly 
scourging from his presence, and to a great extent 
also out of English society, whatever was false and 
hollow, base and vicious. And what effected the 
difference between the career of the former two r 
and that of the immortal Johnson? What constitu- 
ted them pests of society, and him, notwithstand- 
ing many oppressive disadvantages, under which he 
labored in early life, and notwithstanding certain 
strong prejudices, and much that that was uncouth 
in his outward manners, a centre of attraction to 
the gentle, the wise, and the good, and a benefactor 
of his race, if it was not, that in the former misdi- 
rected impulses and evil propensities had been suf- 
fered to develope themselves into gigantic and des- 
potic passions, which, extinguishing the sun of true 
reason, kindled, in its place, the torch of error and 



35 

of prejudice, and that in Johnson the heart was 
right, strongly and decidedly right, in respect of all 
the relations of man, overflowing with the milk of 
human kindness, educated to love the glory of his 
Maker and Redeemer, and the genuine good of his 
fellow-man, and impelling him irresistibly to the pro- 
duction of imperishable works, for the promotion of 
these great and good objects? 

Again, in order to illustrate what has before been 
observed respecting history, we may instance two 
other men. At the very time when Napoleon was 
sweeping over the continent of Europe, at the head 
of his legions, devastating whole empires, overturn- 
ing dynasties, and butchering men by hundreds of 
thousands, and all mankind stood aghast at his 
marvellous achievements, another individual, whose 
name is probably heard by many of my audience for 
the first time this evening, Sir Stamford Raffles, 
was, by the exercise of great, but not extraordinary, 
abilities, guided, however, by superior virtue and 
goodness of heart, beginning that career of sterling 
usefulness, in Farther India, which ranks him among 
the few men whom, were it at any time right to in- 
dulge such a feeling, we would be disposed to envy. 
"Whilst destruction and misery were the steadfast 
companions of the former, the latter, first in the ca- 
pacity of Lieutenant-Governor of Java and its De- 
pendencies, and subsequently as Governor-General 
of Bencoolen, improved and beautified, in various 



36 

ways, the physical aspects of the countries entrust- 
ed to his government, reformed and removed op- 
pressive and wicked abuses which had existed for 
ages, introduced the blessings of christian civiliza- 
tion, and laws, and benevolent institutions, among 
many millions of long misgoverned natives, founded 
schools, and set in motion agencies, for their intel- 
lectual and moral improvement, labored, with signal 
success, for the extension of the boundaries of sci- 
ence, and established, deep in the affections of all 
who enjoyed the benefits of his administration, the 
authority of that government which he represented. 
Is it necessary that we should here expatiate, in or- 
der to prove which of these tw r o men presents the 
best example for imitation, and to show the superi- 
ority of a heart rightly educated, over one in which 
unruly and pernicious passions are suffered to run 
riot, and to quench the most sacred sympathies of 
man? 

To mention but two more examples, in illustra- 
tion of this truth, what was it that enabled the illus- 
trious Wilberforce, amidst the turmoil, and the dis- 
tractions, and the corrupting influences, of political 
life, to hold fast his integrity, and to persevere in 
well-doing, to pursue, with undeviating consistency, 
the true and the good, to labor, with fearless and in- 
defatigable zeal, for the benefit of his fellow-man, if 
it was not that his heart was right towards God, and 
towards man ? And, what is it that entitles, and ev- 



37 

er will entitle him, the anniversary of whose birth 
coincides with that which you are now celebrating, 
our great and glorious, our own Washington, to the 
name of the Father of his country? What is it 
that has baffled all the ingenuity of envy or hostility, 
in its attempts to discover any one capital flaw in his 
character, as a citizen, a soldier, a statesman, and a 
man? What preserved his integrity unsullied, amid 
extraordinary difficulties and temptations, and gave 
him a name, which continues, from day to day, to in- 
crease in brightness, both at home and abroad, if it 
be not, that his heart had been schooled and trained 
with reference to the highest duties of man ; that its 
impulses, affections, and feelings were deeply imbu- 
ed with the immutable principles of true virtue, and 
irresistibly impelled the man to adorn his private life 
with every personal and social excellence, and to de- 
vote himself to the vindication of human rights, and 
the promotion of human happiness ? Without such 
culture of the heart, what would those great and 
good men all have been ? Like others, pests of so- 
ciety, and scourges of their race. Let us be thank- 
ful to Providence, that not a few such bright exam- 
ples shine forth from the dark scroll of human his- 
tory, and let us ever study them with the intense de- 
sire to learn ; to go and do likewise. 

Finally, after recommending to you sundry means 
of rightly educating the heart, I am bound to ac- 
knowledge that, view them singly or collectively. 



38 

they are one and all totally inadequate to the full 
attainment of the great object to be aimed at, ex- 
cept they be directed by the motives, guided by the 
light, sustained by the principles, and aided by the 
influences, of that only true and efficient system of 
moral education, the religion of Christ. Without it, 
you may indeed adhere, with some rigor, to certain 
severe principles of honor, and act out divers hu- 
mane and benevolent sentiments ; you may acquire 
a high degree of self-control, and of general amia- 
bleness; you may exhibit great urbanity of manners, 
refinement of taste, and a decided love of useful ac- 
tivity ; but, permit me solemnly to assure you, that, 
with all this, there will not be one attribute of your 
moral character, on which you will be able to de- 
pend, as soon as it is fairly put to the test, by one or 
more of the thousand vicissitudes, trials, vexations, 
difficulties, and temptations, which are daily incident 
to human life. Without piety, there is no stability, 
no completeness, nay, no reality of moral character. 
How can there be ? How can the man, who disre- 
gards his first, his highest, nay, I will say, his only 
duty, for it involves all others, that of love and obe- 
dience to his Maker, Preserver and Redeemer, how 
can that man be depended on, when supposed in- 
terest, or pleasure, or any other of the thousand in- 
citements that assail the human heart, from within 
and without, tempt him to depart from his professed 
principles ? He cannot ; and what is worse, he can 



39 

have no confidence in himself. He must necessarily 
so often see his best resolutions melt away before 
vexations and trials, often trifling enough in them- 
selves, and discover that his strongest principles are 
not proof against even slight temptations, and wit- 
ness the total discomfiture of all his supposed moral 
energy, that he cannot even place any steady reli- 
ance on himself But piety, deep and true, grapples 
the souPs anchor with a force divine, into ground 
that holds it, fast and safe, however high the floods 
may rise, and fiercely the tempest rage ; and it builds 
the education of the heart upon a rock, which there 
is no power to move. I need not remind you how 
all the sages of antiquity, the venerable Socrates, 
the amiable Plato, the high-minded Cicero, than 
whom none ever raised culture merely human to a 
higher elevation, utterly failed in all their efforts to 
check the evil tendencies, to guide and educate the 
impulses and feelings of the human heart, nay, even 
remotely to ascertain the real duties of man. The 
Gospel alone has made, and can ever make, man 
what he ought to be, according to the counsels of 
the infinitely Wise and Holy One, in all the relations 
of this present life. Fain would I point you to ma- 
ny of its peerless examples, if time permitted: but I 
must refer you to your own recollections. But the 
religion of the Gospel does more, infinitely more. 
All other moral training may fit you to pass with 
some degree of credit and usefulness, through the 



40 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS m 

029 892 258 7 



shifting scenes of this transient existence ; but then 
it must leave you on the shores of eternity, stripped 
of all your pretensions, divested of all the trumpery 
of amiable and refined manners, of agreeable hab- 
its, of rigid morals, based on worldly principles of 
self-government. This power of God alone, the 
Gospel of Christ, with its unchanging truths, its un- 
alterable principles, its divine influences, can edu- 
cate the heart for every duty, and bestow on it true 
happiness in time, and fit it for an eternity of holi- 
ness and bliss. Let me beseech you, then, with all 
your getting, to get understanding, and that wisdom, 
of which the Bible declares, that its beginning is the 
fear of God. 

" The cross ! 

There, and there only, (though the deist rave, 

And atheist, if Earth bear so base a slave ; ) 

There, and there only, is the pow'r to save. 

There no delusive hope invites despair ; 

No mockery meets you, no deception there. 

The spells and charms that blinded you before, 

All vanish there, and fascinate no more." — Cowper. 



